


In My Phone

by RileyChaser



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27102211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyChaser/pseuds/RileyChaser
Summary: Christen is alone in her apartment after breaking up with her girlfriend. She pulls out her phone and accidently calls Tobin.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 14
Kudos: 247





	In My Phone

_An empty apartment is like an ocean whenever you feel like you’re drowning without someone. It feels that much more empty when their stuff is strewn about the place, their clothes on the couch, hanging on the chairs, the book they were reading still sitting with the words down, the spine cracked, teasing you on the end table next to the remote where your fingers brush it every time you get the urge to change the channel. Caught up in your feelings like a fish caught in a net, you struggle, but you only work yourself further into the holes, and now the only thing left to do is sit around and wait to be pulled back up._

_But you kicked her out, and for a good reason. The thirty-fifth time that she showed up late, drunk, telling you that you’re pretty, and she’s sorry and that things will be better. You kicked her out, and it’s fine because she stopped calling six days ago, and you’ve finally found that peace you wanted, and it hurts like a cut on your finger, and you can’t stop sticking it in a jar of salt. Unsanitary. Un-sane-atry. You’re insane, but you’re not, you just feel like you are, you feel like you’re screaming, and maybe you are because your throat is hoarse, and as raw as the rip in your heart but you don’t remember screaming, expect at her when you pushed her out the door, without her stuff, without anything but the alcohol in her system._

_You’re better off, like that time you canceled your subscription to Amazon Prime because you thought it would keep you from shopping when you’re sad, but you just shopped more and paid more for shipping, and it was dumb, maybe as dumb as kicking her out because she could change, unlike your shopping addiction, maybe she could change. Maybe you should call her. Just pick up your phone and call her._

_So you do. You hit your phone screen a few times, and you wait for it to ring as you look at yourself in the mirror. Stupid, this is stupid, you are stupid._

“Christen?”

_That’s not her voice. You look down at your phone, and oh no!_

“Tobin, hey, sorry, I think I dialed the wrong number.”

A laugh comes over the phone, “Who else is Tobin on your phone?”

“You’re not Tobin in my phone,” Christen says sweetly, then blushes a little at the name in her phone. “Sorry, I was uh, trying to…” she stopped, thinking of who she was trying to call, wondering if she owed Tobin a real explanation.

“Are you okay?” Tobin said without prompting. Then there was a long pause. “Sorry, you just sound a little frazzled.”

Christen waited, the question of her well-being hanging in the air like air-dried meat, spiced, salty, drained of life, and she started to cry. “No, I don’t think I am.”

“Where are you?” she asked quickly, without hesitation, without apprehension.

But Christen was hesitant; did she even want to answer? But then the image of Tobin popped in her head, sweat Tobin with her big brown eyes and welcoming smile, and before she had a chance to think better, she answered, “I’m at my apartment.”

“I can come over if you want,” she said calmly. “I’m in Utah, only a few minutes away, actually.”

“Okay.” It came out so quickly, she didn’t even know she was saying it, and then she wasn’t taking it back, and then she was hanging up the phone, and staring at herself in the reflection of the television, and she looked a wreck.

Jumping off her couch like it was set on fire, she started to move around her apartment.

_Your hair is a mess, girl. Your apartment is a mess. You’re a mess, and so you need to fix it before Tobin comes over. Hot Tobin, with her perfect smile and her jaw that can cut glass. And her hands that could probably pull an orgasm out of you like a needle punctures fabric, quick easy, satisfying. But that’s not what she’s coming over for, at least that’s not what was on your mind, or maybe it was. Maybe, just for a second, you were thinking about her and the way you use to stare at her in the locker room, at those abs, those arms, those legs, and picture what it would be like to be picked up by her, kissed by her, thrown on a bed by her._

_That was before all of it. Before you fell in love with a drunk that had too much power over you, who could call you in the middle of the night and you’d come running like a puppy on a string, or maybe it’s a puppet, or maybe it doesn’t matter, because it no longer matters. She’s not here, even though her hoddie is on a chair, and her stupid protein powder is still sitting in its bulky container, taking up space on the counter. And her coffee cup, the one you bought for her when you went to France and brought it back as a joke, and she drank whiskey from it, and she drank whiskey from the bottle, she’d drink whiskey from the floor if she had to, and you’d watch her and pick her up._

_God, you’re a mess. You were a queen once. You still are. Don’t put yourself down because of her mess. You’re still you, or you will be when she’s out of your mind. You will be when your hair is up in a high bun, and you’ve changed into a fresh pair of black yoga pants and a t-shirt. Wash your face, brush your teeth, put on a little makeup; this is Tobin, after all. She’s not just anyone off the streets, a girl in the bar that would make you feel better for an hour, then feel like shit for a week. This is Tobin, beautiful Tobin with her soft voice, and the way she laughs with her eyes closed, and the laugh lines are deep in her cheeks, and the older she gets, the sexier she looks, and you want to run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer._

Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. Taking a deep breath and checking herself again in the mirror, Christen opened the door and looked wide-eyed at the woman standing in her hallway.

“Hey, Tobin,” she smiled.

“That’s me,” her grin was wide, it was perfectly white and straight, and she was more perfect than Christen remembered.

“Come in,” she moved out the way, letting the woman walk into her, slightly cleaner than two minutes ago, apartment.

Tobin was in a bomber jacket that looked warm, dark army green with an orange liner. A hat, flat-brimmed, camper hat with pull strap adjustment, black, a little beat up like she wore it every day. Tapered jeans, light blue that followed the shape of her legs and lead down to a pair of all-white Nikes. When she spun around, her hands in her jacket pocket, going out as she spoke to show her plain white t-shirt.

“Nice place,” she said, her eyes looking around, looking at everything in the room, but the woman standing looked shocked to see her. “You live with your girlfriend, right?”

“No,” she said quicker than she had ever done anything in her life. “Not anymore, we uh, we broke up.”

Tobin’s eyes finally locked on her, “Really, when?”

She moved further into her own apartment, towards the kitchen, ready to offer a drink, “A while ago, but I guess it’s just now sinking in.” she was at the counter, trying not to sound desperate, sad. “Do you want a drink? I have a beer, wine, and water.”

“Beer’s good,” Tobin answered, making her way over to the kitchen. “I’m sorry about your girlfriend.”

“I’m not,” that sounded cold, but it was true, so she stuck with it as she grabbed the beers from the fridge and popped the tops. “She was horrible. I should have done it months ago.”

Tobin took the beer from the woman’s hand and stared at her with unblinking eyes. “Well, I didn’t want to say it, but yeah, you should have.”

“Thanks,” she laughed. That was the first time she laughed in four days. “She’s gone for good, well mostly. I have to get her stuff out of here.”

“Do you want help?” she shrugged as she took a small sip. “I can run down to Office Depot and get some boxes.”

Christen cracked a smile, a genuine one, “Maybe later. Right now, I want to sit and drink a beer.”

“I can do that,” she said in such a cheerful way Christen was sure she created happiness inside her and radiated it out.

So they sat, and Christen turned on the television and put on some show she wasn’t really paying attention to. Tobin took off her jacket, her arms bare just below the high sleeves of her shirt, tan and perfect. She sat on the couch and faced the screen, taking small sips from her beer.

_She is beautiful, you think, as the bottle presses against her lips. You like the way she swallows and how her neck moves. You like the way the lights from the screen dance in her eyes. You like the way her arm flexes just a little when she lifts the bottle to her lips. You like everything about her. You’ve always liked Tobin, you’ve drooled over her._

_It was just a year ago when you had your chance when she asked you to dinner, and you said yes. It was just a year ago when you sat across from her at a table at a semi-fancy restaurant, and you talked about soccer and life and everything you loved, and she responded so perfectly it made your heart dance in your chest. It was only a year ago when you wondered what she tasted like and how it felt to have her breath into your mouth when you kissed. But the moment felt so far away, then moment when she walked you back to your hotel room, and she didn’t invite herself in, and you were too shy to ask her if she wanted to come in. She kissed your cheek, told you goodnight, and that was it._

_So stupid. You could have asked her the next day if you did something wrong, if the timing was off, if she didn’t want you like you wanted her, but you didn’t. Coward. You passed by her in the hall and acted like you didn’t see her like you weren’t thinking about her all night. Embarrassed. Fool. You didn’t text her, you didn’t call, you didn’t ask her for a second date._

_Every time she came to Utah, you spoke, but you never asked her for another date or what happened on your first one. Every time you went to Oregon, you said hello, you hung out in groups, but never alone, and then that woman was in your life. You traded an opportunity for a sick-fiend who cared more about cracking beers than she did about your feelings. And here was Tobin, watching some kitchen remodel, taking baby sips of her beer, here only because she sensed something was wrong._

“What happened?” Christen blurted out before she could get control of her voice.

Tobin turned, that left eyebrow up in curiosity, “I’m not sure what you’re asking me?”

“That night, after our date, in Portland,” she continued. “At the hotel, you didn’t want to come in.”

She smiled, the big one that fills her entire face, “I did, but when we got to the door, I got nervous, and you didn’t ask, so I didn’t ask. I didn’t think you wanted me to come in.”

“I did,” she said, matching her rhythm. “I really did.”

“Then the next day,” she put her beer down on the coffee table. “You didn’t talk to me, so I thought I did something wrong.”

“You didn’t,” cutting her off, Christen let out a long sigh. “You were perfect. You’re all I thought about for months.”

“Yeah,” it was a statement, and a question, in a way, so Christen nodded in agreement.

And then she asked, it was almost a mistake, and she knew it, but she asked, “Can I kiss you?”

And Tobin swallowed hard. Then nodded.

Then their lips collided together, and it was a collision as Christen rushed forward, desperate and wanting and needing to kiss her more than she ever needed anything in her life. It was all teeth, rushed lips, hands going to card through thick hair, knocking the hat from Tobin’s head. And they rushed through it, kissing like this was the end of the world and they were the bomb about to go off. It was rough, and it stung a little, but it was good, like a cold drink on a warm day, or a hot drink on a cold day, or something along those lines.

“Wait,” Tobin said, cutting them off, even though Christen’s hands were already on her hips, fisting at the tight white shirt. “Is this,” she started, her eyes still shut tight, her already plump lips now swollen and red. “Is this a rebound, because, I…”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, fully, and honestly, and to the best of her ability. She wasn’t sure, because there was no telling, because she lived here and Tobin lived in Portland, and she was hurt, and if she as honest, horny, but Tobin was the dream for years, she was the fantasy, and god she was a fantastic fantasy, but she had to tell the truth, or this wouldn’t feel good.

“Fuck it,” Tobin said, breathless, fast, but with a smile. “I want this too much.”

And before they both could think, Tobin was on top of her, kissing her in the same rough way, though less frantic and more controlled. Her hands were going up Christen’s toned stomach, looking for the spot she wanted, and her hands finally found the cups of her bra, and she squeezed at the same time she slipped her tongue into Christen’s mouth, and the whole thing made them both moan.

And Christen’s mind went wild as she spread her legs wider to accommodate the fit body on top of her. She let Tobin take over manly because she wanted to experience this in its purest form, and partly because she was the type to give up control, and Tobin was definitely the type to seize it. Before she could think about the next move, Tobin was pulling her shirt over her head, and her lips were attaching to her neck, and Christen was arching into it.

Her touches were like ice, freezing her in place, making her shiver as strong hands ran down her sides, pushing at the hem of her pants but not pushing them down. Those hands, strong like words said in the heat of the moment, they were running back up, to her back and unclasping her bra, pulling it from her shoulder and tossing it away.

“Fuck,” Tobin said as she sat up just enough to get a look, a good look that made Christen shudder under her gaze and wrap her legs around her torso in anticipation of the appreciation. “You’re so beautiful.” Tobin leaned down, kissing her again, bringing her in, breathing her in, making her back arch at the feeling. Then she was kissing her neck, her lips going up to kiss the shell of her ear. “I’ve thought about this for a year, more than that, hell, I can admit, I’ve wanted this since I first saw you.”

_Who in the world can make you feel better than Tobin Heath, whispering about her fantasy of you? Who in this terrible world can make you wetter than her as she leans up and takes off her shirt, pulling off her sports bra and confirming every thought you had about her body? Tobin was the only person in the world that could fill the spot of perfectly sweet and immaculately sexy all at once. And she is here, on top of you, making you whine just a little as her fingers tweak your nipple, and her tongue runs the length of your neck._

“Tobin,” she breathed, thinking for a split second how much she craved to say that name in this situation, and now she was finally getting to say it breathless and wanting. She felt teeth dig into her pulse point, and she took in a sharp breath through her teeth and wrapped her legs tighter around a strong body. “God, Tobin, I need you to touch me.”

There was no answer because it wasn’t a question, it was a command, and even though a ‘yes ma’am’ would have been sexy, it was unnecessary. In a flash, Tobin was on her feet, her hands going to undo the button on her jeans, and she kicked them off at the same time that she leaned forward and pulled down Christen’s pants and panties all in one smooth motion. She was a professional, efficient like a machine. Tobin took just a second to appreciate everything she was seeing, giving Christen a second to really take in how good she looked in tight red boxer shorts.

But all the seeing was done, and the needing was calling out as Tobin got back into position, only this time her hand was trapped between them, and she was touching softly on the inside of Christen’s thigh.

And as if she, this wonderfully remarkable woman, was reading Christen’s mind, she leaned in for one reassuring and relaxing kiss, then looked up and into her eyes, those honey browns staring down at her, piercing into her soul as she stroked through her a few times, making Christen’s head go a little blurry. Then Christen’s focus was sharp as she felt fingers push into her, smooth and careful, and making her tense for just a second before she completely relaxed.

Tobin had a rhythm, like a sweet song, or a poem put to music, or a single drum beating on its own. The metaphor was lost in her mind as she could feel herself being worked up. Christen pushed her hips up to meet every slow thrust, air leaving her lungs like Tobin was steadily pushing a pump. And she thought it would go on like this, agonizingly slow, her pleasure building like a slow climb, and that would be good because slow was intimate, it made her feel, she could feel every stroke, every movement of the fingers moving inside her, but then her head was falling back involuntarily as something was found and touched.

She could have sworn she heard Tobin whispers something along the lines of ‘right there’ or ‘that’s it’ or something equally as cocky and sexy and deserving because she found a spot that Christen didn’t realize she had, but maybe she had been hoping someone would find. Leave it to Tobin to be the explorer with the patients enough to find it and leave it to Christen to go a full year before she let it happen.

But none of that mattered now, not when Tobin was moving faster, and Christen was going a little limp, only the muscle in the stomach, tensing with every in stroke and relaxing with each out stroke. The pace was no longer slow and intimate, it was now fast and unrelenting, and she couldn’t tell where the idea of Tobin fucking her stopped, and Tobin actually physically fucking her began, but it didn’t matter as her breathing became so ragged there was no way to tell when she would breathe again.

And she could have sworn, yet again, that she heard Tobin say something. Maybe it was something about her letting go, or something about her coming, or something else, but it didn’t matter because she was falling and her body was shaking, and she was saying a single name over and over again, the name she should have been saying for a year, and the feeling in her body was as overwhelming as the thought that she wanted to do this again and again.

“You okay?”

She felt soft lips on her neck, hair tickling her shoulders as her eyes fluttered open. “No, I think I might have gone temporarily insane. How in the world, did you…” she couldn’t finish the sentence, not with Tobin kissing her.

Then she was leaning up, her face a foot away, and she looked serious, more so than Christen had ever seen her. “I want you.” She said in a firm statement, no trace of worry in her eyes. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you. I blew it last year, I know that, and I waited. I know you just broke up with her. I know you’re going to need time, but I can wait. I’ve waited this long, and I’ll wait until you’re ready, but I want you, Chris.”

Her head was nodding, a smile coming across her face, her eyes fixated on the ones looking so honest, so sincere, so perfect above her. “Okay,” she said softly, but without reluctance.

Leaning down, their lips came together, but it wasn’t like the first time or the way it was when they were desperate to taste each other. It was calm, like the water of a pound, the wind blowing just enough to make it ripple. It was easy, the easiest thing she had done in a year.

Tobin popped up with that bright smile, the ones that made the lines cut deep into her cheeks. “I know you didn’t mean to call me today, but I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” Christen chuckled, her hands going to lace behind the back of Tobin’s neck as she pulled her in for another kiss.

“What am I,” Tobin asked as she pulled up again. “In your phone? If I’m not Tobin, then what am I?”

Christen blushed, her head going back, her eyes rolling. She had to admit it; there was no going back, not when she was naked under her, making unspoken promises about what they could be. She looked up and bit her bottom lip, finally saying, “Girlfriend. I put you in there when we first met, and I was kind of crazy about you and hoping.”

“Really?” Tobin cracked up, shaking her head enough for her hair to fall over her shoulder and cast a shadow on her face. “Well, don’t change it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

_An apartment is so different when the girl you’ve dreamed about for a year is naked, on top of you, and kissing you like you’re hers. It feels that much more perfect when you’re kissing her back, hoping that it’s true._

**Author's Note:**

> This was a quick write. Hope you liked it.


End file.
